Part 2: Casualties of War - Collaborator
by Queen's Bishop
Summary: A continuation of the events and characters introduced in Part 1 (48-Hour Passes).


32

 _No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author._

 _Thanks to JML for proofreading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading._

 **Casualties of War**

 **Part II: The Collaborator**

 **by: Queen's Bishop**

 **indicates French or German is being spoken, depending on the character.**

Summary of **Part I: 48-Hour Passes** – The squad split up with each man, in his own way, seeking solace from the devastation of the on-going war.

Cpt. Jampel took one last look at the map he had tacked to the wall to make sure he had covered everything before turning to face the young woman. "Rachel, do you have any questions about the role of your Maquis unit in this plan?"

The young woman quickly thought about what she had been told. "No. Eight tomorrow we attack Boche."

"Good, but be sure to wait until you hear the artillery open up, even if it's delayed for a few minutes. That will mean we've begun our assault on Molineaux."

"I tell Arrow. We wait."

The captain scanned the faces of his lieutenants. "Any questions?"

The room was quiet for a moment.

"Alright, be ready to move out at 0530. Rachel, do you need an escort back to your camp?"

The young woman smiled. "No, this I no need. I tell to Caje and Kerby adieu."

"Of course. Lt. Hanley will take you back to Second Platoon."

Doc, Littlejohn and Billy sat in the back of the truck, hanging on as best they could while Brockmeyer sped back to the Second Platoon CP.

"Billy, you came back with the Sarge. Did you get a chance to talk to him?" Doc asked. "He was pretty low the last time we saw him."

"He seemed okay to me, but kind of anxious to get back. Why do you suppose Kirby an' Caje went back early?"

"That goldbrick probably got thrown in the stockade," Littlejohn responded. "Billy, did you have a good time in Berot?"

Nelson glanced at his two companions, not wanting to admit he had spent his last forty-eight hours at a monastery. "Yeah, I did," he replied. "How 'bout you guys? What did you do?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," which Doc figured was no lie.

"Yeah, I had a good time, too…doing the usual," the big private said. The last thing he wanted was for it to get around that he had spent his entire time helping an old lady on her farm. He would never hear the end of it if Kirby ever found out.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Littlejohn kept glancing at Billy, wondering why he wasn't asking a million questions. He looked all right, but he seemed…different.

Caje lightly kissed her on both cheeks. Good luck, Rachel, he said.

Kirby really wanted to kiss her, and not on the cheek. But, he knew if she didn't deck him, her husband, Alain, would, so he settled for a handshake. "Thanks, Rachel. Ya be careful."

"Yes, Kerby." The smile she gave him reminded him of the ones he got from Ruthie, his little sister. "For me, last fight."

She walked past the sentries. As she pulled the Schmeisser off her shoulder, she turned to give the two soldiers a fleeting glance before disappearing into the woods.

Brockmeyer slammed on the brakes and the truck lurched to a halt in front of the CP. Saunders jumped down from the cab and immediately headed off to find the lieutenant.

As First Squad's NCO entered the room, Hanley looked up from the map he was studying. "Well, it's about time you turned up," he said with a grin. "I thought you were going to stay at the Hotel Paris?"

"Change of plans. What's up, Lieutenant?"

Lt. Hanley explained how Kirby and Caje had escorted an S-2 captain to make contact with the Maquis when he couldn't find the sergeant. As always seemed to happen when S-2 was directly involved in an operation, things went wrong and the captain was killed. Still, the First Squad soldiers were able to complete the mission and had been shown a small, secluded Kraut encampment with building supplies and barrels of fuel. Hanley pointed out the location on the map.

"We don't know what they're up to, but the camp doesn't seem to be heavily guarded. The Maquis will hit it tomorrow at 0800 when King and Love Companies begin the assault on Molineaux. We move out at 0530."

Saunders studied the location carefully before giving the lieutenant a sly smile. "What the Krauts are up to is building a bridge across the Berot River, right about here." He marked the position on the map. "Remember how the Krauts delayed blowing the bridges at Berot. I think they were waiting for their armor to make it across the river. When we got there first, the armor was stranded. They've been hiding out in a camouflaged dell, right about here." Again, the sergeant marked the position.

"How did you…?"

"I ran into an old Frenchman. He'd seen them a couple of days ago an' he showed me where they were. I didn't see any infantry, just the tank an' half-track crews. From your description of the Kraut encampment, they're probably pretty low on fuel."

"How soon before the bridge is finished?"

"Maybe tonight or sometime tomorrow morning; it depends on how late they work this evening."

"BROCK…!"

The corporal was just entering the CP. "Yes, Lieutenant."

"Get Cpt. Jampel on the radio."

"Yes, Sir."

Littlejohn shared the food the old woman had packed for him with Doc and Billy before they returned to their billet in the cellar. As they walked down the stairs, he spotted his missing squad mates.

"Hey, how come you two got back early? What happened, you get thrown in the stockade?" he asked with a grin.

"We was on a secret mission, ya big moose…" Kirby replied.

Before he could finish, Saunders came down the stairs. "Alright, listen up. Forget anything you might've heard about tomorrow's assault."

"Sarge, we haven't heard anything," Billy said.

Kirby and Caje looked at each other, both thinking of Rachel and the battle plan she was carrying back to Arrow and his group of resistance fighters.

"Everything's the same for the Maquis an' the rest of King Company. But, Second Platoon, an' us in particular, have special missions."

The BAR man gave a big sigh. "Sarge, how come every time there's somethin' special that's gotta be done, we gotta do it?"

"Kirby, shut up!"

Saunders laid out the plan. First Squad, along with two demolition men, would cross the river at Berot and, under cover of darkness, move into position. Just before the artillery opened up, they would set the charges and blow the bridge the Krauts were constructing. When the squad was done, they would rendezvous with the rest of Second Platoon. The 0800 barrage would have two targets, Molineaux and the Kraut armor trapped on the other side of the river. Anything left of the armor after the shelling would be mopped up by Hanley's men.

"Sergeant, how are we gonna take out armor if the artillery don't destroy it?" asked Albert Baker, their newest replacement, nervously.

"We think the armor is low or out of fuel. There's quite a lot stockpiled on this side of the river." Caje and Kirby nodded in agreement. "So, if the artillery doesn't knock them out, they're not going anywhere. An', if we have to, we can call for more shelling."

"Is Cpt. Jampel going to radio de Maquis of de change in plans?" asked the Cajun.

"He doesn't wanna take the chance. S-2 thinks the Krauts are somehow listening in on their radio transmissions. They were told to wait for the 0800 artillery before beginning their assault. Our early blast doesn't change that."

However, from previous experience, the men knew that while the resistance fighters were brave, they were, at times, an undisciplined fighting force. The unspoken concern was that upon hearing the explosion at the bridge, they might take that as the signal to begin their attack.

"Sarge, me an' Caje could go an' warn 'em, an' then help 'em with their attack," Kirby volunteered, something totally out of character for the BAR man.

Saunders had already suggested that to the lieutenant and Cpt. Jampel. But, the officers had been just as concerned about too many people who knew the battle plan wandering around in Kraut territory.

The sergeant gave Kirby a look that questioned his sudden desire to volunteer for anything, but shook his head 'no.' The only thing the two soldiers could do was to hope that the resistance fighters stuck to the plan.

"Kirby an' Nelson, basic load of ammo. Littlejohn, grenades. Doc…"

"Right, Sarge," the medic said as he headed for the stairs.

"Get something to eat an' then get some sleep. We move out at midnight."

Rachel cautiously made her way to the Maquis camp, doubling back several times as she got closer to make sure she wasn't being followed. It was early evening when she gave a long trilling whistle followed by two short tweets and heard the two short, a long and another short in reply. One of the members of the group appeared from behind a rock to greet her.

Your father was getting worried.

I had to wait for the Americans to decide what they were going to do.

Will we attack?

Rachel smiled at the earnest young man. Yes. Let me talk to my father and he will give us our orders.

The young woman entered a small cave which her father, code named 'Arrow' and the leader of the small band of resistance fighters, was using as his headquarters. After he fondly greeted his daughter, she carefully laid out the Americans' plan and their part in it.

She concluded with, The encampment isn't very well guarded. The artillery barrage will distract the sentries, so we shouldn't have any problem overpowering them and blowing up the fuel supply.

Arrow agreed. It was a perfect operation for his unit. He knew that as soon as the Americans captured Molineaux, most of his group, including himself, his daughter and son-in-law, would disband and try to rebuild their lives. This would be their last battle.

He and Rachel discussed how the men and women of the group should be deployed before they walked over to another larger cave to join the rest of the fighters. Except for the two guards stationed outside, all the members of the unit gathered around their leader.

But, before Arrow could lay out the plan, another person entered the cave. Arrow greeted him by saying, Ah, Louis, I have never seen such a big smile on your face. Tell us.

A son…Anna Marie has given me a son! the elated young man said.

For a few minutes, all thoughts of the war were forgotten as the tight little family of resistance fighters shared the new father's joy. Finally, however, the group settled down to the serious business of their up-coming attack on the Boche.

Arrow gave them their assignments. Tomorrow morning, the Americans will advance and take Molineaux. While they are fighting there, we will attack the Boche encampment where fuel is stored. Some of you have seen it, so you know it isn't heavily defended. Our job is to destroy that fuel before the Boche have a chance to transport it to another location.

He scratched out a rough drawing in the dirt, pointing as he talked.

Rachel will take Marcel and Louis and attack from here, the southern side of the camp. Alain, you will be here, on the northern side with Luc and Bertran and I will be here, on the west with Monica. The Americans will start firing their artillery at eight. That is our signal to attack. Alain, your group will be responsible for blowing up the fuel. I don't want everyone rushing in to do it and have people caught too close when it explodes, so just Alain. Does everyone understand?

All of the fighters nodded.

Alain spoke up. I will personally take care of the fuel. If I can't, Luc, you will do it.

Luc looked at Alain and nodded in agreement.

Good. Michelle and Henri will remain here with the wounded, and guard the camp until we return. We will leave at five-thirty. When we return, my friends, our war will be over. Now, everyone get some sleep.

Saunders awoke at 2300 and slipped out of the squad's billet for a smoke. The two previous nights, when he had slept outside under the stars, the sky had been clear and the air pleasantly cool. Now, on this moonless night, it was hot and humid. He briefly wondered what Jean Pierre, the Frenchman who had shown him where the Kraut armor was hidden, was doing. He hoped that after they had parted, the old man hadn't returned to the rise overlooking the armor to take a few pot shots. But, his thoughts quickly turned to the bridge and his squad's mission to destroy it. Based on his earlier reconnaissance with Jean Pierre, he had a good idea of how he would deploy his men.

At 2330, he roused the squad. After eating some rations, they blackened their faces and the backs of their hands and stuck a small wad of chewing gum between their dog tags so there would be no tell-tale jingling as they walked. Caje put on his black beret while the rest of the squad donned their jeep caps.

When they were ready, they grabbed their gear and carried their helmets. By 2355, they were heading for the same deuce-and-a-half that less than twelve hours earlier had brought them back from Berot and their all too brief R&R. The lieutenant and two other soldiers were waiting for them beside the truck.

Hanley quickly introduced Cpl. Tanner and Pvt. Martinez, the demolition men who would blow the bridge. While the squad climbed into the truck, the lieutenant and the NCO went over the plan one last time.

"You'll be cutting it pretty close, so just blew the bridge and get out. We'll have your helmets, rations and extra ammo at the rendezvous point."

"Right, Lieutenant."

As they parted, Hanley added, "And Saunders…Take care of yourself."

"Always, Lieutenant, always."

When the sergeant climbed into the cab and slammed the door, Brockmeyer started the engine and they began their journey back to Berot and across the river. Even with the ride, they still had a long walk to reach the bridge. Saunders wanted to arrive before daybreak so they would be in position at first light. Then he would be able to make adjustments to his plan if the situation had changed since the previous morning.

At midnight, he slipped behind the rock to take over guard duty. His partner was hidden fifty yards to his right, totally invisible on that moonless night. The camp was quiet. All of the fighters in Arrow's unit were experienced, so there was no-one wandering around with pre-battle jitters. It would be three hours before the next rotation of the guards. He waited a few more minutes before he left his position and quietly began the trek to the rendezvous point.

As always, the German captain and two soldiers were waiting for him when he arrived. The officer listened as he laid out the Americans' battle plan and the part his Maquis unit was to play. When he finished, the captain handed him an envelope.

I suggest you find a way to leave before the fighting starts, the officer said.

I plan to, he replied.

He turned and disappeared back into the night.

Do you want me to kill him now? asked one of the soldiers.

No, his disappearance would arouse suspicion. Besides, he might still be useful, replied the captain.

The Germans returned to Molineaux to make their report.

Maj. Reinhardt closed his eyes and listened carefully to what the collaborator had told Cpt. Aldermann. When the captain was finished, the major sat quietly, thinking. War was, to him, a chess match and he worked out the probable American reactions to each of his own possible moves. Aldermann stood patiently waiting. He had happily served under the major for over a year and he appreciated the officer's studied approach. However, once committed to a plan of action, the major would move quickly and decisively, since he had already anticipated all of the enemy's responses.

Captain, we know the current location of the saboteurs' camp?

Yes, Sir, the collaborator told us several days ago.

When will the bridge be ready for the armor to cross?

Aldermann looked at his watch and smiled. It is finished, Sir.

Good. Tell Lt. Kruger to have his armor ready to cross at 0800. The Americans' artillery barrage will cover their approach. We'll split our forces and ambush the Americans. You take two platoons to the construction encampment. I want you to move quickly and quietly so you are in position before the saboteurs arrive. We will finally have them all out in the open. When they attack, wipe them out. Don't let any of them slip through your fingers.

I'll take the rest of the men. A small detachment will take care of the saboteurs' camp. The remainder of our forces will set up along the Americans' left flank. When they start advancing toward Molineaux behind their artillery barrage, you and the armor will spring the trap, hitting them on their right flank and driving them into us.

We will rout them and roll them all the way back to Berot!

Yes, that will be the ideal outcome, Captain.

Cpt. Aldermann moved carefully among his men, checking to make sure they were remaining hidden and quiet. Many of the soldiers were taking advantage of the wait to get a few hours of sleep. They had left Molineaux at 0230 so they would be at the encampment, ready to protect the precious fuel, long before the saboteurs arrived.

At 0400 the last of the German troops moved out of Molineaux, leaving what was left of the empty village to be destroyed by the American artillery.

A squad was detached from the main body and given the mission of attacking the saboteurs' camp and killing every man, woman and child they found there. This unit of the French resistance had been a thorn in their side for a long time, but recently things had changed, thanks to the collaborator. Today, the Germans would have their revenge. The squad moved into position and waited.

Maj. Reinhardt led the rest of his men to the high ground on what would be the left flank of the Americans as they approached Molineaux. He had them dig in, but, if things went as planned, they would soon be advancing as they drove the routed Americans back toward Berot.

Rachel and her husband, Alain, shared a few tender moments. As her father had said, this would be their last battle. Tomorrow, they would begin their lives; begin a family, like Anna Marie and Louis. Everything they had talked about, dreamed about, hoped for…it would all be theirs…tomorrow.

All along the line, the men of King and Love Companies were being roused from their sleep by their NCOs. Today, they would continue their advance, pushing the Krauts out of Molineaux.

By 0530, the remaining men of Second Platoon were sitting in trucks outside the King Company HQ while Lt. Hanley conferred with Cpt. Jampel.

When the lieutenant climbed back in the cab, Cpl. Brockmeyer started the engine. The trucks would carry them back to Berot and across the river. As they drove away, the men could hear a NCO yell, "GRAB YOUR GEAR, WE'RE MOVIN' UP."

Arrow and his unit spread out and started to move slowly and quietly through the woods. They traveled in pairs, a fighter who knew the location of the encampment matched with one who didn't. However, once they had started, it was hard to contain their enthusiasm. A few of them had fought and waited for years for this moment. Soon, they would join forces with the Allies and push the Boche from this little part of their country. For them, eight o'clock seemed a long way off.

Two by two they arrived and took up their positions around the Boche encampment. Each fighter melted into the cover of the woods, invisible to his comrades and to the enemy. Each fighter was tense with anticipation and wondered why time was suddenly standing still.

Lt. Kruger drummed his fingers against the front of his panzer. His crew, as well as the other panzer and half-track crews, were milling around. All their gear was packed and they had nothing to do but pace and try to see the hands on their watches. Maj. Reinhardt's orders had been explicit. The armor was not to cross the bridge until 0800 when the noise of the American artillery would cover their movements. Kruger wanted to move into position so they would be ready to cross, but he couldn't afford to waste precious fuel idling the engines. He had calculated when he should leave the dell a half dozen times and come up with a half dozen different answers. He walked away from his panzer, hoping that would signal to the rest of the men that nothing was going to happen for a while.

They had walked beside the river in darkness for several hours. At last, Saunders quietly gave the order to halt and it was passed down the line of men. The NCO and the scout left the squad settled into a position that offered good cover and they continued to cautiously move forward. The two men advanced gradually in the gloom until Saunders raised his hand and pointed. Caje could just make out a low structure barely rising above the level of the river. With the sound of the water tumbling over the weir, they were unable to hear if any sentries were walking around. They took cover and waited, hoping to catch a movement.

Finally, their patience was rewarded when a match was struck to light a cigarette. They watched as a shadow and the faintly glowing end of the cigarette moved from their side of the river to the center of the bridge. As the sky began to lighten, they saw a silhouette from the other side walk out to meet the sentry. The guards paused to smoke and then walked back to their posts. Aside from there now being a guard on the other side, everything looked as Saunders remembered it, except for the obvious. The bridge had been completed.

He signaled Caje and they headed back to the waiting squad. Along the way, the sergeant mentally made a change in his plan. The guard on the other bank would have to be eliminated.

The sun was just making its appearance on the horizon when the NCO and the scout reappeared.

"Tanner, how long will it take you an' Martinez to lay your charges?"

"Ten minutes, Sarge, fifteen at the most."

"Alright, listen up. We'll move up an' hold our position. Littlejohn an' Nelson, you're on security. Caje an' I will take out the sentries at 0715. Then Kirby an' Baker, cross over an' secure the other side of the bridge. Tanner an' Martinez, get those charges laid. Once you're ready, Kirby an' Baker, cross back over an' we blow the bridge. That should give us about thirty minutes to head back toward the rendezvous point before the artillery opens up. If you got any questions, ask 'em now."

With no questions, Saunders took Littlejohn's bayonet and left his Thompson with his men. He made a wide arc around the sentry, just as he had when he was with Jean Pierre, again coming out below the ruins of the mill. Although the river was wider there, it was not running as fast and he was easily able to slip into the water and swim across.

When it was light enough to see, the collaborator checked his watch. It would be tricky, but, if he timed it carefully, it would work. He would slip away just as the Americans began their barrage. The rest of the fighters from his unit would be watching the Boche, getting ready to open fire. He would back away and then run. He smiled as he patted his left chest. He could feel the envelope in the inside breast pocket of his jacket. It held all of the money the Germans had given him, enough money to start a new life. Arrow was right, their war was almost over, and he wouldn't go back to scratching out an existence on the family farm.

The German sergeant checked his watch. It was 0630. He signaled his men to move out. They knew exactly where the lone sentry was keeping guard and were upon him before he could fire a shot. A stifled cry was all the noise there was. But, with the usual morning sounds, neither the wounded men nor the woman preparing their breakfast heard anything. Within minutes, there was nobody left alive at the saboteurs' camp.

Cpt. Aldermann had told young Lt. Mueller to do everything as they normally did it at the construction encampment. Thus, at 0630 the lieutenant awakened his sleeping men and they prepared for another day. At 0715 the work detail grabbed their weapons and tools and climbed onto the truck for the ride to the bridge. They had moved some of the barrels to the river bank the evening before, and today they would transport that fuel across the bridge for the armor that needed it.

Saunders checked his watch. It was time. The guard had been pacing back and forth in front of the barrels of fuel. Now, he stopped and looked up the rutted dirt road, as if expecting something. The sergeant stepped out from behind one of the barrels and the guard, hearing a small noise behind him, started to turn around. Saunders quickly put his hand on the man´s shoulder and plunged the bayonet into his belly. After dragging the corpse behind the barrels, he headed for the bridge.

Meanwhile, Caje moved stealthily until he was behind the sentry on the other riverbank. The man was watching the water spill over the weir. He never heard the Cajun approach. Suddenly, there was a hand over his mouth and a sharp pain as the bayonet entered just below his rib cage. The scout dragged the body to the edge of the river and rolled it in. As he watched it roll over the weir, the rest of the squad joined him.

Kirby and Baker ran across the bridge to take up positions on the opposite bank. The BAR man handed Saunders his Tommy gun as they passed. Once they were in place, the sergeant signaled the two demolition men to begin laying their charges. He slowly moved across the bridge with them, his Thompson at the ready.

They were two-thirds of the way across when Kirby yelled, "SARGE, THERE'S A TRUCK COMIN'."

Lt. Kruger couldn't wait any longer. He ordered the two half-tracks to start for the bridge.

REMEMBER TO HAVE THEM BRING FUEL FOR THE TWO TANKS, he yelled as they passed him.

One of the drivers waved in acknowledgement, happy to finally get moving.

The NCO looked up the rutted dirt road that led to the bridge and saw the truck that had just come into view. "Tanner an' Martinez, go back!"

"But, Sarge, we ain't…" Tanner glanced up and saw the approaching truck. He didn't finish his sentence. He yanked Martinez's arm and both men took off running.

"KIRBY, BAKER…FALL BACK!" the sergeant yelled.

The BAR man fired, raking the cab of the truck. It careened off the road and ran into a tree. Stunned Germans began jumping out of the back. But, their bewilderment only lasted a moment as Kirby continued to fire. The Krauts ran for cover and began shooting.

Saunders crouched on the bridge, providing cover fire as Kirby and Baker sprinted toward him. Baker got an astonished look on his face and fell.

At the other end of the bridge, Doc stood up, but he was quickly pulled back down by Caje.

Littlejohn and Nelson came running up.

"Caje, there're two half-tracks coming," Littlejohn said in-between large gulps of air.

He and Billy took up positions beside the scout and began firing at the Krauts across the river.

Kirby knelt at Baker's side, turned and fired another burst before quickly checking to see if the young soldier was still alive. There was nothing that could be done for Baker, so he fired another burst before continuing to cross the bridge. He passed the sergeant and then again dropped to one knee to provide cover fire for him.

Saunders started to fall back, but in that instant he felt a sharp pain in his side. He staggered and dropped to one knee. Kirby returned to help him. He pulled the sergeant's arm over his shoulder and together they continued their retreat. But, before they had taken a half dozen steps, the BAR man was hit in the thigh and both men fell onto the bridge.

For a moment, there was an unexpected calm at the site of the skirmish. The only sound was the water tumbling over the weir.

"Kirby, you conscious?" asked the sergeant.

"Yeah."

"Unhook your BAR and web belt. We're gonna roll into the river."

"But, Sarge…" One look from Saunders and Kirby did as ordered.

"CAJE, BLOW THE BRIDGE ON THE COUNT OF THREE AN' THEN GET OUTA HERE!" Saunders yelled as he unhooked his web belt and released his grip on the Thompson.

Caje looked at his stranded comrades…his friend, Kirby. He took a deep breath. There was nothing he could do to rescue them. He could hear the approaching half-tracks, although they weren't yet in sight. Billy and Littlejohn looked at him. They knew he had no choice.

"Tanner, can you blow de bridge?" asked the scout.

"Yeah, the charges that are in place will blow, but those guys…"

"Do it on dree…OK, SARGE!"

Saunders looked at Kirby. "You ready?"

"No, but it ain't like I got a choice."

The sergeant grabbed hold of his collar. "ONE…TWO…"

The two men rolled off the bridge and into the river. They were immediately swept over the weir as the bridge exploded behind and above them.

With the sound of the explosion, most of the resistance fighters quickly moved up and opened fire on the Boche encampment. They had been anticipating the barrage and didn't stop to question the timing of the blast or the fact that it was only a single explosion not that far from them, not artillery pounding the village of Molineaux further away. They caught the defenders by surprise, but that momentary advantage was almost immediately lost as the return rifle and machine gun fire quickly overwhelmed them.

Three members of the Maquis didn't start shooting at the sound of the blast. Rachel had no idea what the explosion was, but she knew it wasn't the start of the 0800 artillery barrage. She was the last one in the thin horseshoe shaped line of resistance fighters, and since she didn't move up and discharge her weapon, she didn't draw any return fire. As the Boche began to press forward, she remained hidden and watched as her father and friends were slaughtered. There was nothing she could do to help them. Once the Boche were well past her, she made her escape. She melted into the forest, heading toward the river in the direction of Molineaux.

The collaborator didn't initially shoot either. He never had any intention of firing his weapon, but the blast and subsequent reaction of the rest of the unit caught him off guard. Although neither he nor Rachel had seen each other, he also occupied the last position on the opposite side of horseshoe.

Young Bertran also didn't move up and open fire. Instead, he turned and looked in the direction of the collaborator, perhaps wondering what he should do. He was the last 'monastery boy,' as Arrow called them, to join the unit. The collaborator raised his rifle and shot him. Then, as Rachel had done, he made his escape, heading toward the river in the direction of Berot.

"LET'S GO!" yelled Caje, signaling Billy to head back the way they had come.

"But Kirby an' the Sarge…" Doc said.

Caje looked back at what remained of the bridge, and then past Doc to the half-tracks just coming into view. "Dere is noding we can do now. We'll come back later and see if dey made it to shore." He said the words to get Doc moving, but he knew there probably wouldn't be a 'later,' and there was little chance the two men had survived the blast.

The remains of the squad, along with the two demolition men, took off running.

The Kraut work detail on the other side of the river didn't have much time to turn their weapons on the fleeing Americans. One of the barrels of fuel they had moved into position the evening before had already exploded. It was punctured during the skirmish and the flames from the destruction of the bridge had set the leaking fuel ablaze. The remaining Krauts hastily fired a final volley before retreating back toward the encampment.

Saunders came to the surface and pulled Kirby up. Their ears were ringing from the explosion. Pieces of the bridge were spilling over the weir and rushing toward them or falling on them from the sky. Suddenly, the sergeant's head snapped back and he released the grip he had on the BAR man's collar. Kirby caught a glimpse of the fleeing Krauts. One man seemed to stare at him for a moment before he lowered his rifle and turned to run.

The BAR man reached down and pulled the sergeant's limp body to the surface. The river had momentarily cleaned the wound, but as soon as his head was above the waterline, blood cascaded down the side of Saunders' face.

Kirby couldn't tell whether the Sarge was alive or dead, but he knew he would never be able to get him to shore. Even if he hadn't been shot in the leg, it would have been difficult for the BAR man since he wasn't a very good swimmer. Now, it was impossible. With that realization came first a moment of panic and then a sharp pain in his back. For an instant, he thought he had been shot again, but then he saw the large piece of lumber that had hit him. He grabbed hold and quickly draped himself over the board. With that to buoy him up, he was able to hang onto the motionless sergeant as they both continued to be swept downstream.

The half-tracks came to a halt at the burning ruins of the bridge. The crewmen stared in disbelief. There would be no escape now, at least not with their vehicles. After a brief discussion, all of the men, except one, began making their way across the river where the bridge had been. They would try to make it to the work camp or to Molineaux. The remaining man turned his half-track around to report what had happened to Lt. Kruger.

The lieutenant received the news just as the American artillery barrage opened up.

The returning soldiers from the work detail confirmed what Cpt. Aldermann had already guessed when he heard the explosion. There would be no armor to support his flank attack on the Americans. With only the two platoons and the soldiers from the construction detail, he realized he was in a precarious position if the Americans should counterattack rather than fall back along their right flank or retreat toward Berot. He immediately radioed his superior.

There was silent as Maj. Reinhardt absorbed the news. This was not one of the contingencies he had planned for. At last, the major gave his orders.

Concentrate your forces and mount your attach against the front right flank of the American advance. Wheel and continue to push them back. We will still attack directly on the left. And, Cpt. Aldermann, it seems the collaborator was playing both sides. If you run into him again, kill him!

With pleasure, Sir.

The collaborator ran. He ran as he had never run before in his life. After a few minutes, he could no longer hear the sound of any small arms fire from the failed attack on the Boche encampment. The forest and fields were suddenly quiet, except for his own ragged breathing and pounding feet. Then the silence was broken when the big American guns opened up and the assault on Molineaux began.

He continued to run. He pushed on the stitch in his side so he could keep going. Finally, his legs and lungs would no longer respond and he collapsed. He crawled into the underbrush and made himself as small as possible as he sucked in deep breaths of air.

When his heart finally stopped racing and the stitch in his side disappeared, he cautiously crept out and tried to get his bearings. Nothing looked familiar, so he knew he still wasn't close to the bend in the river. Once he reached the bend, he would know where he was. He got up and started running again.

Rachel moved cautiously, but her mind was racing. 'We've been wiped out…Somehow, once again the Boche knew our plans…How? We haven't used the radio in days...It must have been the Americans…The explosion, what was that?...The Americans must have changed their plans…I've got to get back to camp and warn Michelle and Henri...'

She didn't cry at the loss of her husband…her father…her comrades. Over the years, she had lost so many friends and relatives during acts of sabotage and when the Boche retaliated for those raids that she no longer had any tears left to shed. Once again, she hardened her heart; her war was not over.

But, just as she made up her mind to work her way back to their camp, the artillery barrage started. 'So, the Americans are attacking after all,' she thought.

Any hope she had of returning to her remaining comrades was gone, at least until the battle was over. She decided to continue downstream and find a place to hide until the fighting ended. Then she would make her way back to their camp and, with Michelle, Henri and the wounded men, she would continue the fight.

The current slowed considerably as the river widened. Kirby knew they were drifting further into Kraut territory. It was just a matter of time before they were spotted, although he hoped the artillery he could hear would keep the Krauts occupied for a while. Still, he wanted to get to shore. It didn't matter which side of the river. To him, both were equally bad. He looked at the sergeant. Saunders was still unconscious, but at least the BAR man could see that he was breathing. He tightened his grip on the NCO's field jacket to keep him from slipping off their make-shift raft.

Lt. Kruger realized there was nothing he could do to save his tanks. Two were out of fuel and it was just a matter of time and misfortune before they were destroyed by the shelling. The other two had only enough fuel to make it across the bridge. But, what good would driving them to the river do now that the bridge was destroyed. He decided to abandon them and try to save as many of his men as possible.

EVERYONE, TO THE RIVER! HURRY!

Men scrambled to climb onto the half-track. Once the lieutenant slammed the cab door, it started moving as fast as it could. The men who hadn't made it on-board ran after it, heading for the river.

A shell landed in front of the vehicle. As the driver swerved to avoid the crater, another shell hit the half-track, killing everyone who had managed to hitch a ride.

On both sides of the river, troops waited for the barrage to end. King and Love Companies had been moving up behind the shelling and were poised to surge forward toward Molineaux, unaware of the German troops who were ready to close on them in a now-modified pincer movement.

Across the river, Second Platoon had also moved up. Lt. Hanley had heard the explosion at the bridge and knew First Squad had been successful. Therefore, the tanks Saunders had seen should be sitting ducks for the shelling, and their mop-up operation would be just that. Still, he had two bazooka teams with anti-tank ammo ready. When the shelling stopped, he signaled his NCOs to move forward.

Much further away, the old Frenchman, Jean Pierre, had also been listening to what sounded like the rumble of thunder. He smiled.

"Bon, Saunders, bon!" he said over and over.

He decided he would go back to the dell tomorrow and make sure all of the Boche had been killed and, if not, he would finish them off. He picked up his old rifle and carefully cleaned it.

Up ahead, there was a bend in the river. Already debris from the bridge had gotten snagged there and more was collecting as Kirby watched. He started kicking with his good leg, trying to move the piece of lumber they were using as a raft closer to the pile-up. If they stopped floating downstream, he might be able to work his way closer to the shore.

That was his plan, anyway, and the first part of it worked. He managed to float into the pile-up, but he couldn't make any further progress toward the shore. For every piece of debris he managed to push aside, two more seemed to float into his path. And, those that didn't block their way drifted into them, pummeling the private and the unconscious sergeant.

At last, the collaborator saw the bend in the river and knew where he was. He slowed to a walk. 'Now,' he thought, 'everything will be just as I planned. First stop, the farm where I can hide for a few days until the fighting is over.'

Only, it wasn't as he had planned. As he approached the farm, he could see the cow in the pasture and he knew the old woman had returned.

'Stupid old woman, why did you come back?' he thought. 'Don't you know it isn't safe!'

The goats raised their heads and watched as he approached.

He considered what he should do. 'If she's not home, I'll just take some food and leave,' he decided.

GRANDMOTHER, he shouted.

At the sound of the call, the old woman lifted her head. She was working in the garden behind the house and hadn't seen anyone approach. But, she immediately recognized the voice and her entire face broke into a smile. She dropped the hoe and quickly headed around the side of the barn.

ALAIN! she cried excitedly. It's so good to see you! I knew you would be coming soon. A giant American soldier helped me return so I could have everything ready when you came home.

Alain tensed. Is the soldier still here?

No, no, he only stayed for a day or two. She looked around. Where's my son and my little Rachel?

They'll be along, Grandmother. I came ahead to make sure everything was alright.

The old woman smiled again. You're a good boy, Alain. Rachel is lucky to have you. You must be hungry and tired. Come into the house and I'll get you something to eat.

As she turned to go, Alain reached up and felt the envelope of money in the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He had hoped to hide for a few days and then slip through Berot unnoticed. Now, the old woman knew he was here. Soon, she would learn that her son and granddaughter had been killed. She would tell everyone in Berot and they would hunt him down.

'Stupid old woman, why did you come back?' he thought. 'Don't you know it isn't safe!' Now he would have to change his plans.

He raised his rifle and, as she opened the door to go into her home, he shot her in the back. He walked up to the house and stepped over her body to enter the kitchen.

After rummaging around there, and then in the root cellar, he filled a sack with food and wine. He went into the barn and found a piece of rope, using it to tie together the ends of two rolled up blankets. When he slipped his head through the loop so the bundle rested across his back and picked up his sack of food, he looked like any of the other displaced civilians wandering the countryside, except for the rifle he slung over his shoulder. He would keep the weapon for a while longer until he was well away from the area.

As he got ready to leave the house, he had to shoo the goats away so he could again step over the old woman's body.

Rachel stopped running. She had been traveling beside the river, but up ahead it would bend and head toward Molineaux. She decided to wait at the bend to see how the battle went. If necessary, she could cross the river at night, but for now, she would just wait. She made her way down to the water to get a drink.

As she scanned the opposite bank, looking for danger, she saw all of the wreckage from the destroyed bridge caught on the opposite shore at the bend. She was looking over the debris when she saw two heads and shoulders bobbing up and down. Examining them carefully, she decided they were Americans…and one was…yes, it was Kerby!

She observed them for several more minutes to be sure it wasn't a trap. When convinced that nobody else was watching, she slung her Schmeisser across her back, eased into the water and began making her way across.

As she swam, she assessed the situation of the hapless Americans. The one man was not moving and she wondered if he was dead or just unconscious. However, since Kerby was still holding onto him, so she decided he must be unconscious. That meant he would be dead weight she would have to deal with. But, having grown up by the river, she was a strong swimmer. It would be difficult, but this wouldn't be the first time she had pulled an unconscious man from the water.

She came up behind them. "Kerby, Rachel is here. I pull back."

A tired Kirby said, "Oh, mamozell…I mean Rachel… am I glad to hear your voice! The Sarge is out cold an' I don't think I can hang onto him much longer."

She grabbed hold of Kirby's field jacket and began swimming against the current, pulling him and the little raft back upstream enough to get them momentarily clear of the tangle of debris.

"Kerby, you stay. I take sergeant."

"Okay, whatever you say, mamozell…er Rachel."

The young woman got her arm around Saunders' chest and told Kerby push him away. Once she had the NCO lying on his back and she was sure of her grip, she began to slowly swim toward the river's edge. When she reached shallow water, she was able to half-float and half-drag him partially out of the river.

After a few moments of rest, she returned to the BAR man and propelled the piece of wood he was still using as a raft to safety. It was only as they both staggered out of the water that she noticed his leg was bleeding.

"Kerby, you shot?"

The private fell to the ground beside Saunders. "Yeah, Krauts arrived when we was blowin' the bridge."

Anger flashed in the resistance fighter's eyes. "What, Kerby? You are explosion!? My comrades hear. They attack!"

"I'm real sorry, Rachel. We wanted to warn ya, but we was told to maintain radio silence 'bout the whole operation. S-2 thought the Krauts might be listenin' in. Me an' Caje wanted to come an' tell ya, but the brass figured ya'd stick to the original timetable."

As Kirby explained how the sergeant had discovered the Kraut armor on the other side of the river and the bridge the Krauts were building to bring it over, the anger she had previously felt melted away. She realized that if the bridge hadn't been destroyed, both her comrades and the Americans would have been overwhelmed by the arrival of the tanks and half-tracks. And, just as important, it wasn't the Americans who had tipped off the Boche of her unit's plan to attack the encampment. She wondered how, once again, they had known.

She gave the BAR man a sad smile. "Not matter. Boche know. They wait for us."

"Your father, Alain, Luc…?

"Dead, all dead. It is luck I escape."

While Saunders might have questioned how she alone had been able to survive, Kirby had no such suspicions. "I'm real sorry, Rachel," he said again.

She nodded. "Come. We hide."

Together they dragged the unconscious NCO up the bank and into the trees that lined the edge of the river. Once Rachel was satisfied they were well hidden, Kirby again slumped to the ground beside Saunders and gave him a worried look.

"Don't ya think he should be comin' to?"

Rachel knelt across from the BAR man and gently felt around the wound on the sergeant's temple.

"Only graze," she pronounced. "He is concussion. Bad head pain when wake up."

"Oh, ya mean he's got a concussion an' is gonna have a bad headache…What about his side?

She opened the NCO's field jacket and pulled up his bloody shirt and undershirt. Again, she gently felt around the wound, drawing a groan from Saunders.

"No is bad. Maybe rib crack. He lucky."

Kirby opened the sergeant's first aid pouch and pulled out the sulfa and dressing. "Here, rip this open an' sprinkle the powder on both them wounds to keep 'em from gettin' infected an' then put the dressin' on his side."

The BAR man suddenly felt exhausted. He lay back and closed his eyes while Rachel took care of Saunders. When she was finished, she moved over to him.

"I look your leg."

"It's okay. It hardly hurts anymore."

Rachel ignored him. She took out her knife and slit open the trouser leg. As she had done with Saunders, she gently began to feel around the now bloody entry wound. Kirby cried out in pain. Rachel bit her lip and continued until she had a good idea of the location and depth of the bullet. When she was finished, she sat quietly, reviewing in her head all she had learned about removing bullets. Most importantly, she knew she had to sound confident.

"Kerby, bullet she come out."

"It'll be okay 'til we get back to our lines."

"No, Kerby, too long. Come out now!"

Kirby looked at the girl. "Ya ever take a bullet out?" he asked, dreading the answer, whatever it might be.

"Yes. We no have doctor."

In truth, she had never removed a bullet. She had assisted her father a few times when Michelle wasn't available and she had watched both of them, but she had never held the knife in her own hands. However, from her examination she thought the wound would soon start to fester. If the bullet wasn't removed, Kerby could die. At least if she tried, he would have a chance. And, a chance was more than Alain or her father or the rest of her comrades had gotten.

She started a small fire to heat the blade of her knife, and pulled off Kerby's belt to use as a tourniquet on his leg.

"Kerby, no cognac for clean wound," she said to the soldier.

"So," Kirby responded, hanging onto a slender thread of hope, "does that mean ya ain't got nothin' for me to drink to ease the pain?"

The rest of Second Platoon was finishing the mop-up when First Squad arrived. They had retreated back toward Berot to avoid the artillery then looped back around to arrive at the rendezvous point. Lt. Hanley watched as the squad approached and immediately knew something had gone wrong. They were missing three men…and one of them was his friend, the squad's NCO.

He anxiously waited for Caje to come and report. "What happened?" he asked.

"A work detail from de oder side of de river arrived. Baker was killed. Saunders and Kirby got caught on de bridge. Dey bod were wounded…De Sarge…de Sarge said to blow de bridge."

Hanley stood in stunned silence for a moment.

Knowing that the lieutenant and the sergeant had had more than the usual officer-NCO relationship, Caje watched him closely. He couldn't help but remember how just a few days previously, Hanley, when speaking of Saunders' grief over the loss of his friend, Grady Long, had said that, "he needed to get over it." Now, with Kirby and Saunders both gone, he and the lieutenant would each have to bury their personal feelings.

"Alright, Caje," Hanley quietly said. "You men get your gear. We're almost finished here. I have to call in to Cpt. Jampel."

Things on the other side of the river weren't going as well. The two companies were catching it from both flanks. Lt. Hanley was ordered to get his platoon across the river as quickly as possible and engage the Krauts who were attacking the Americans' right flank.

Caje led the way back to the river where the bridge had been. While the rest of the platoon struggled to make it across, he and Littlejohn briefly searched the bank for the bodies of their comrades, but found no sign of them.

Once on the other side of the river, the platoon moved forward, following the rutted road the Kraut truck had used. They eventually came to the site where the German encampment had been. The barrels of fuel were still there, along with the bodies of the Maquis unit. From the looks of things, the Krauts had been waiting for the little band of resistance fighters and showed them no mercy.

Caje found the lifeless Arrow and realized that if he and Kirby had been sent to warn the Maquis of the early explosion, they, too, would have been lying dead at his side. He, at least, had been spared, thus far. But, he had neither the time nor the desire to search for the bodies of Rachel or Alain. He had already said too many good-byes for one day.

Doc knelt beside Louis. His son would now grow up without a father. Billy rolled over one of the bodies. He knew it wasn't that long ago that the young fighter had been taking nature walks with Br. Michael.

The lieutenant signaled the platoon to move forward until they made contact with the enemy.

Alain decided he couldn't risk going through Berot. There was too great a chance he would be recognized. And, he couldn't stay on the farm. The American soldier might come back. His only option was to cross the river and wait until the fighting was over. Then he would continue as he had planned.

He walked back to the water's edge. He remembered a picnic the family had had there and, for a brief moment, he missed Rachel. But, not enough to regret what he had done. He found the family's carefully hidden little rowboat and made his way to the opposite shore. Once there, he hid the boat and found a spot with good cover where he could hold up and wait.

Rachel had just finished bandaging Kerby's leg when the sergeant began to stir. She went to his side and tried to talk to him, to tell him to just lie quietly, but he didn't seem to realize she was there. He tried to get up and immediately became nauseous and vomited. She tried again to talk to him.

"Sergeant, you is concussion. Stay quiet!"

This time he looked at her and seemed to see her. He raised his hand to the side of his head and felt the wound.

"Kirby…"

"Kerby here. He good. Stay quiet!"

Saunders sank back down and closed his eyes.

The young woman tried to keep the two men quiet as they took turns drifting in and out of consciousness. The bullet wound in Kerby's leg had stopped bleeding, so she no longer had to tighten and then release the tourniquet. Otherwise, she occupied herself with carefully stripping the Schmeisser and drying each part before putting it back together. Finally, there was nothing else she could do but watch the sleeping American soldiers, be on alert for the approach of any Boche, and wait for either of those situations to change.

Once again, Jean Pierre awoke before the sun had reached the horizon. The old Frenchman slowly chewed a piece of stale bread and watched as the morning rays chased the ghosts away from his family graveyard. He drank a little wine and then gathered a few possessions into his sack. He picked up his rifle and began the long walk to the dell. He was anxious to see what was left of the Boche.

Alain was also awake before sunrise. But, he hadn't really slept. Instead, he spent the night sitting against a tree trunk, staring into the darkness, his heart pounding every time he heard a noise. Finally, he hadn't been able to take it any longer, and he had gotten up and walked carefully around his hiding place. In the end, he decided it was just his imagination that someone was out there. Still, sleep hadn't come.

When it was light enough to see, he moved to a different location and spent a restless day watching and waiting. But, there was nobody coming except, perhaps, the bloody apparitions of the friends and family he had betrayed.

Several times he counted the Reich marks he had been paid and reviewed his plans. Today, he would stay hidden to make sure no-one was following him. Tomorrow, he would start making his way through the countryside, keeping out of sight and eating the food he had taken from the old woman's house, until he was well into German territory. Then, he would abandon the rifle and make his way to Paris. Once there, he would be just another anonymous person drive from his home by the war. But, with the money he had received from the Germans, he would be able to live well in the big city.

Saunders awoke with the mother of all headaches. When he could finally focus his eyes without seeing double and feeling nauseous, he realized Kirby and a young woman were staring at him. He started to get up, but she rushed to his side and pushed him back down.

"Sergeant, you is concussion. Stay quiet!"

Kirby laughed. "Rachel, sometimes the Sarge is a pain in the neck, but he ain't a concussion. He's _got_ one…Hey, Sarge, this here's Rachel. She's with the resistance. Me an' Caje met her a couplea days ago. She found us an' dragged us outa the river."

Saunders nodded, which didn't help his headache. "Thanks, Miss…Kirby, how's your leg?"

"It's okay. Rachel dug the bullet out. It don't hurt too bad. Not like your head! An' Sarge, just so ya know, Rachel don't like to be called ma'am or mamozell neither."

"Miss…Rachel…can you go for help?"

"Across river is fight."

"You could go to Berot."

"No. Today, tomorrow, stay quiet."

Grudgingly, the sergeant closed his eyes. He knew she was right. He could barely move without being overcome with dizziness and waves of nausea. Her presence at least offered some protection if there were any Krauts in the area.

Both he and Kirby spent most of the rest of the day sleeping.

The old man lay at the top of the rise looking down into the dell. Nothing moved. Still, he lay quietly and watched, his rifle resting in his hands. He could see the destroyed tanks; thin wisps of smoke were still rising from two of them. A little further away lay what was left of a half-track. It was surrounded by the bodies of Boche soldiers.

Jean Pierre smiled and nodded. He said, "Bon, Saunders, bon!" as he surveyed the scene.

He had hoped to kill a few of the Boche himself. But, with nobody left alive, he resigned himself to taking satisfaction from the part he had played in their discovery.

It had been a long walk, and he was tired. He decided to spend the night at the bottom of the rise and go to the bridge tomorrow. He wanted to see if Saunders had destroyed that, too. Perhaps he would find a Boche soldier there to kill.

The next morning, the sergeant sat up and leaned against a tree with his eyes closed as he continued to feel the effects of the concussion. Rachel again refused to go for help, saying they should rest for another day while she searched for food. However, since she wouldn't go, Saunders was determined that he and Kirby would start making their way back to the American lines.

After a heated discussion, they reached a compromise. The young woman would help Kirby for a quarter of a mile, then return and help the sergeant to where the BAR man was hidden. She would repeat the process, a quarter of a mile at a time. That would give each of the men an opportunity to rest. She thought, if they were lucky, they would make it as far as the ruins of the old mill today. Saunders knew that was just below the weir where the Kraut bridge had been.

At that point, their plans diverged, but that would be another discussion. One which, Kirby hoped, would be just as entertaining for him to watch and listen to as this one had been.

The collaborator forced himself to move slowly. There was no point in rushing forward into unknown danger. As he made his way along the river, he often circled back and then waited for a long time to be sure he wasn't being followed. Unexpectedly, he spotted a German half-track. He didn't immediately see any soldiers, so he concealed himself and waited for them to return. When he was convinced there were none around, he cautiously approached the vehicle. Then he saw the remains of a recently destroyed bridge.

'So, that's what the explosion was,' he thought.

As soon as Rachel returned the first time from assisting Kirby and helped him to his feet, Saunders knew he had made a mistake when he had insisted they begin walking toward the American lines. Each step brought dizziness and nausea. And, the nick in his side, which hadn't bothered him at all when he was resting the day before, now gave a sharp pain with every breath he took. But, he didn't say anything to the young woman.

Rachel, however, knew he was suffering because of the frequent stops he took to close his eyes as he fought off the vertigo.

'At least,' she thought, 'he's not complaining the entire time like Kerby did.'

In this manner, the three of them slowly made their way upstream.

Suddenly, Alain caught a glimpse of movement further downstream and he quickly moved behind cover. He was shocked when he first saw Rachel appear. He watched as she helped an American soldier who was limping and leaning on her for support. He cautiously moved closer so he could get a better look. Yes, he was right. The soldier was Kerby!

He couldn't figure out how the two of them had arrived at this location, but it didn't matter. He raised his rifle and was going to take the shot as soon as Rachel reemerged from hiding Kerby. But, she immediately turned and quickly headed back the way they had come. He lowered his weapon. He would wait until he understood what she was doing.

Jean Pierre approached the bridge the same way he and Saunders had several days previously. He stopped when he saw the half-track and remained hidden, watching and waiting to see if any Boche were in the area. When none appeared, he sighed and shook his head in disappointment. He decided to move in closer to get a good look at the remains of the bridge.

When she finally returned, his wife was helping another wounded soldier, this one a sergeant. The collaborator knew he needed to talk to Rachel to find out how many more Americans there were, so he called and ran to her. She turned and cried out with joy as she saw him coming. After easing Saunders to the ground, she eagerly stepped into his open embrace.

The old Frenchman was sure the blonde soldier was Saunders, his American sergeant. He started to move forward to greet him, but hesitated. The years of occupation had taught him to be cautious. He didn't know who the young couple was, and, with the noise of the river, he couldn't hear what was being said. So, he thought it best to watch for a moment.

My beloved…thank God you are safe... Alain said as he held Rachel.

Oh, darling, I thought you were dead…Everyone…my father… She started to cry.

He tenderly wiped away her tears. I know, but you're safe. That is what's important. He looked at the sergeant. Who's this?

His name is Saunders. I pulled him and Kerby from the river. You remember Kerby?

Of course. Where is he?

Kirby came out from hiding and grinned. "Hi ya, Alan."

"Kerby, bonjour." Are you collecting Americans, Rachel? How many do you have? he asked his wife with a laugh.

Only these two. But, as you see, they're both wounded, so I can really use your help. I'm going to take them to grandmother's farm until we know it's safe.

Well, I'm afraid the farm isn't safe. You see, I came that way and…I am sorry, my beloved, but your grandmother has been killed.

Rachel got a stunned look on her face. She took a step back as she shook her head. No, that can't be. Killed…What are you talking about?

Neither Saunders nor Kirby knew what had just been said, but they saw that the happy reunion had suddenly changed dramatically.

Jean Pierre also saw that something was wrong. He decided to climb up into the turret of the half-track to get a better view.

She shouldn't have gone back to the farm so soon. It wasn't safe.

Rachel still couldn't grasp what she was hearing. My grandmother? she asked in disbelief.

Yes, she's dead. You see…she shouldn't have been there when I arrived. But, she saw me…so I had to shoot her.

A look of horror replaced her previous stunned expression. You…you shot her?

The young woman began to back away from him. She reached to pull the Schmeisser off her shoulder. He knocked the weapon from her hand and then backhanded her hard across the face, sending her to the ground.

Both the Americans made a move toward the Frenchman, but he aimed his rifle at Rachel and they froze.

"NON!" he shouted. Rachel, tell Kerby to stand over there with you. He swung the rifle to indicate where he wanted them.

With the rifle momentarily pointing away from the other two, Saunders tried to tackle Alain, but the collaborator easily fended off the wounded man, knocking him back to the ground. Alain kicked the sergeant in his wounded side. The NCO cried out in pain as he tried to protect his ribs.

Rachel, tell the sergeant the Germans will pay me for him, but if he causes me any trouble, I will kill him. Then tell Kerby to tie the sergeant's hands behind his back. And, tell him not to try anything or I will shoot you.

Rachel was filled with hatred and rage as she looked at this man who had been her husband, but whom she now didn't know. She realized she had no choice. She translated what Alain had said and Kirby moved over to where Saunders lay.

"Sorry, Sarge," Kirby said as he did what Alain had ordered.

Now, tell Kerby to help him up.

Again, Rachel relayed the message.

The BAR man struggled, but he finally succeeded in getting Saunders to his feet.

"Bon. Kerby." Alain swung his rifle, indicating Kirby should rejoin Rachel.

When the BAR man was again beside the young woman, Alain moved behind the sergeant and pushed him until he was facing a tree.

Rachel, tell the sergeant to stay there.

After the young woman told Saunders to stay where he was, Alain took several steps back toward Rachel and Kirby and raised his rifle.

Sorry, Kerby. The Germans don't pay for wounded privates.

The shot rang out. Saunders squeezed his eyes shut, and not because of the dizziness and nausea that were overwhelming him. The echo of the shot died away and, for a moment, there was only the sound of the river.

"WHAT THE HELL…" cried Kirby.

Saunders turned around and saw the private, standing with his mouth still open, looking at Alain who was lying face down on the ground with a gaping wound in the back of his head.

"What the hell!" the BAR man said again.

The three turned to see who had fired the shot. The old Frenchman slowly climbed out of the turret. Rachel ran to help him get off the half-track while Kirby untied Saunders' hands. They both collapsed, leaning against the tree, exhausted from the walking and their encounter with Alain.

Jean Pierre gave Saunders a grin and a wave as he walked toward him. When he was close enough, he started talking rapidly in French. Rachel nodded several times as she listened to what he was saying.

When the old man was finished, Rachel turned to the Americans. "Saunders, he say you his friend?"

The sergeant nodded. "Yeah, his name is Jean Pierre. He's the one who showed me where the Kraut armor was hidden on this side of the river an' where they were building the bridge."

Kirby stared first at the NCO and then at the Frenchman. "But, Sarge, he don't speak American, does he?"

Saunders gave the BAR man a small smile. "We managed to communicate. Rachel, what else did he say?"

"He say, sorry for Alain to kick you. He wait…" Rachel waved her hands in frustration, trying to find the words. "First, he no understand what happen. Second, he no have good shot."

Jean Pierre walked over to Alain's body. Boche! he said with contempt.

No, said Rachel. Collaborator!

The old Frenchman spat on the body. That is even worse!

Yes, said Rachel, That is even worse! She took off her wedding ring and threw to the ground as she walked away from everyone.

Kirby started to get up to go to her, but Saunders grabbed his arm and shook his head. Jean Pierre slowly walked over to where she was standing and talked to her in a low voice. She nodded and then collapsed into his arms, weeping on his shoulder.

'That coulda been me,' Kirby thought.

After a few minutes, the old man walked over to the body. He rolled the corpse over to get the rifle. When he saw the bulge in the dead man's coat, he reached in and pulled out the envelope.

Rachel, this is what the collaborator got for selling out his countrymen. He held up the stack of Reich marks.

Bastard! she said angrily as she kicked the body. She grabbed the bills from Jean Pierre and threw them into the air where they were caught by the breeze and scattered.

Blood money! Jean Pierre said as he once more spat on the corpse.

Together, the old Frenchman and the young resistance fighter dragged Alain's body to the river and rolled it in. They watched as the current quickly carried it away. When they returned to the Americans, it was decided they would move away from the river. Because they didn't know how the battle on the other side had gone, the half-track sitting beside the destroyed bridge might attract unwanted attention.

Once they had settled in, Rachel again inspected the wound on the sergeant's side where Alain had kicked him. She gently pushed on his ribs as the sergeant first winced and then groaned. Jean Pierre watched over her shoulder, giving her advice.

After she finished her examination, she announced, "No break. Still you is concussion. Stay quiet!"

Kirby couldn't help but chuckle at her assertion that Saunders was a concussion and at her again giving the Sarge orders.

She and the old man then got into a long, heated discussion in French. Finally, Rachel announced that in the morning she would cross the river and, if it was safe, she would find the American lines. Jean Pierre would remain with the soldiers and guard them. The old man grinned, nodding to the sergeant and patting his rifle.

Jean Pierre opened the sack the collaborator had carried and discovered the food. Because of his continuing nausea, Saunders didn't feel like eating anything and he quickly fell asleep. However, the other three quietly enjoyed a small feast and shared a bottle of wine. After Kirby drifted off to sleep, the young woman and the old man opened a second bottle and talked together long into the night.

The next morning, after conferring with the sergeant, Rachel set out. She crossed the river and cautiously made her way to the site of the ambush. The bodies of a few Germans were still there, but those of her comrades and her father had been removed. This gave her confidence that the Americans were in command of the area.

Once she was close enough to confirm her assumption, she did as the sergeant had told her. She carefully hid her Schmeisser and approached the soldiers with her hands raised. Speaking only French, she asked to be taken to Lt. Hanley. Saunders had said that if the soldiers couldn't understand her, but heard the name of an officer, they were more likely to take her to that officer than if she spoke to them in broken English.

Hanley immediately recognized the young woman and listened to the welcome news she brought. Within minutes, Doc and several Second Platoon soldiers were dispatched to find and bring Saunders and Kirby back.

When Rachel said she wanted to go to the Maquis camp to be with the rest of her unit, the lieutenant sadly shook his head. He told her what the Americans had found as they advanced against the Krauts.

The bodies of all of the resistance fighters had been brought to Molineaux. Hanley asked if she would identify them and then he would make the arrangements for their burial in the village cemetery. Rachel requested that six of them be returned to Berot.

Nelson, upon hearing of the grim detail, asked Lt. Hanley for permission to accompany the men from Graves Registration. Littlejohn and Caje watched as he climbed into the cab of the truck to sit beside Rachel, unsure of why he had made the strange request.

First stop was a small farm. Rachel went inside and broke the news to her friend, Anna Marie, and Mme. LaRue. A sudden cry of anguish could be heard by the men standing outside. The soldiers from Graves Registration dug the hole in the family graveyard and the young father was laid to rest.

Two shrouded bodies were delivered to the parish priest in Berot. He told Rachel he would notify the families.

It was Billy who sought out Br. Michael at the monastery. The monks gathered and dug the graves for two of their boys who had 'grown up rather quickly' and died much too soon. Nelson stood by Br. Michael's side, holding the hand of a crying little boy, as they were buried.

Finally, the truck stopped near another small farm. A group of little goats greeted them. The soldiers carried the body of Rachel's father to the family plot and Rachel asked them to dig two graves. While they set to work, she, Billy and the goats walked to the house. There, in the doorway, lay her grandmother. Rachel dropped to her knees and wept. After a few minutes, she stood and Billy helped her to wrap the body in a blanket. He carried the grieving young woman's grandmother to the newly dug grave.

The squad was gathered around the cots of their comrades when Rachel and Jean Pierre came to visit Saunders and Kirby at the aid station. With Caje translating, the sergeant said thanks and good-bye to the old Frenchman. He asked what they were going to do, and Rachel replied that now they were each other's family. They would live at her ancestral farm and tend the goats.

When Littlejohn heard the word 'goats,' he perked up. "Do you know an old woman with five or six little goats that follow her around like pet dogs? She lives on a farm not far from the river." He looked sheepishly around at his squad mates before continuing. "Would you say hello to her for me. I spent my R&R with her and she's a real nice old lady. I'm sure she'll remember me."

"Yes, I tell her," Rachel replied. She looked sternly at Nelson.

But, she needn't have worried about Billy telling Littlejohn what had happened to the old woman. He wouldn't spoil his friend's happy memories. After all, that wasn't what a man would do.


End file.
